


Prisoner of Eight-year-olds and Enclosed Spaces

by RPF_lifesource_V



Series: Reach Out, We're Here [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Claustrophobia, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Locked In, Panic Attacks, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Social Media, Techno's Sisters are a menace, Tomminnit to the rescue, Well he tries, Whump, discord calls, just in case you needed to know, no beta we die like men, sbi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RPF_lifesource_V/pseuds/RPF_lifesource_V
Summary: The young man brought himself out of his musings with a chuckle, ready to turn around and continue his search.“Alright, that was-,”He was cut off midsentence in a jolt, startled by the distinctively booming sound of the door behind him slamming shut. In his shock, he was only able to spin around with an interjection stuck in his throat as he heard the squeaking metal latches being slid into place from the outside, effectively locking the young man in, shrouding him in the dark.After his heart stopped beating too hard, Techno managed to hear his sisters’ laughter both through the wooden door and in lag through the walkie-talkie.He swallowed once with a huffed breath.“Well, shit.”----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Because Techno just isn't allowed to start his stream in peace.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: Reach Out, We're Here [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016974
Comments: 38
Kudos: 636





	Prisoner of Eight-year-olds and Enclosed Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Tw// Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks  
> There's swearing in here too.
> 
> Finally finished this, I'm happy with it, but I'm going to give a head's up right off the bat.
> 
> Realistically, Technoblade's sisters would be around 12-13 years old about now, but I've changed that for the sake of narrative. Techno's still his current age.
> 
> Also, Techno's rl name is not used in this because he's said that it makes him uncomfortable. I've also decided not to make up any names for his sisters to avoid misinformation.
> 
> One last thing, I don't know if it was a joke or if Techno was being serious when he mentioned that he was still living with his parents in a recent stream, But in any case, he has his own apartment in this and is visiting his family house for the week.
> 
> With that said, enjoy!

There was a little over an hour left before Techno had to start his stream, and already there were about three thousand people waiting, spamming the Youtube chat.

However, when his sisters, porting a pair of well-rehearsed puppy eyes each, absolutely begged him to come play Hide & Seek with them, he figured he had some minutes to spare.

In truth, Techno hadn’t spent time with them in too long and figured this was the best opportunity he’d get in a while, as he had come visit his family home for the week. Being Technoblade, he’d also decided mid-stay that he wanted to stream from his old room, take a trip down memory lane while he was at it.

He’d just finish setting up when his sisters called from the doorframe. And although it was quite likely that they were planning some macabre scheme behind his back, because duh, whose sisters are we talking about, he had let them coerce him into playing for just a bit. Techno conceded to giving them the entertainment, mainly because he’d honestly been reminded of when they used to drag teenage him out of that very same chair and demand to let them play on his computer, or come out of his room and play pretend or, as one may guess, Hide & Seek.

He should’ve known better than to give in. Both then and now.

But he was a fool and, after giving them both a deadpan look, Techno closed his eyes and began to count out loud.

From the doorway he heard delighted squeals, loud footsteps scurrying through the old house.

Everything got very quiet when he got to fifteen, and it was as if he was the only person in the building when he opened his eyes at twenty.

It was underwhelming when he stepped out into the living room and found himself forced to pretend he couldn’t hear poorly contained laughter coming from behind the closed door of the supply closet just five steps to his right.

Techno let himself walk aimlessly around the house for a full eight minutes, quite the record, before opting to end the show.

He slowed his gait, on purpose, and made his way to the splintered, worn down massive wooden door fitted into one of the hallway walls.

Once in front of it, Techno opted for the most dramatic entrance he could muster, and that he delivered, swinging the door open, taking a full step inside with each of his hands extended up and just a bit forward, to make him look like a menacingly cheesy vampire ready to pounce on the two cowering little girls.

“Surprise~!” He somewhat yelled with an unbothered monotone tone because, despite all the theatrics, being dead inside was, undeniably, his strongest charm.

Within the next second Techno discovered a flaw in his plan. The two little girls weren’t cowering from him or squealing in surprise. Because they weren’t even inside the goddamn closet, as Techno would come to embarrassingly realize a second later when he actually looked around the place.

There, on the floor, pushed up against the far wall, hidden in the poor lightning of the small room, was a, seemingly harmless, single plastic purple device.

Techno took another step forward and crouched to pick up the offending object. Thanks to the reflected light of the living room, he recognized it immediately as one of his sisters’ old walkie talkie toy. Sure enough, the speaker inside it crackled with the bubbly giggles and laughter that was being transmitted from the other half of the pair.

Technoblade raised an eyebrow with a short snort. Clearly, he’s been duped.

‘Clever brats.’ He thought smirking with both amusement and embarrassment.

If this proved anything, it was they were his siblings alright. Techno was suddenly very glad that Chris was off with their parents that day. If the gremlin trio had teamed up against him for this game, there would be a Techno shaped hole on the floor and maybe half the neighborhood set up in sudden flames.

He brought himself out of his musings with a chuckle, ready to turn around and continue his search.

“Alright, that was-,”

He was cut off midsentence in a jolt, startled by the distinctively booming sound of the door behind him slamming shut. In his shock, he was only able to spin around with an interjection stuck in his throat as he heard the squeaking metal latches being slid into place from the outside, effectively locking the young man in, shrouding him in the dark.

After his heart stopped beating too hard, Techno managed to hear his sisters’ laughter both through the wooden door and in lag through the walkie-talkie.

He swallowed once with a huffed breath.

“Well, shit.”

Techno gripped the device in his right hand and held it close to his mouth. “Really funny you two.” He deadpanned, pressing the button so they too could hear him both through the door and the toy communicator. “What’s your master plan now?”

It took a good couple of seconds before the hysteria and obnoxious laughter died down. Eventually, one of them stepped up to fill him in.

“You’re now our prisoner!”

And the other added. “Yeah! You’re arrested for trespassing into the lands of out kingdom!”

 _“’Tresspassing?’”_ Techno repeated under his breath with a tinge of disbelief because, wow, ok, unprovoked big word?

Then he blinked, twice, and felt the presence of the high walls and dusty cleaning supplies around him as the meaning behind his sisters’ words dawned on him.

When the hand holding the device began to shake slightly, he cleared his throat roughly and shook his head.

“So, I’m your prisoner now?” The tone of his voice was leveled, composed.

“Yup, and you can’t leave!”

“Uh, unless?” Techno tempted, testing his luck.

“Unless we want to!”

‘…Alright then.’ Techno thought to himself, swallowing convulsively.

It might be a good idea to maybe clam down before his breathing went all over the place and he suffocated in that _tiny supply closet._

He shook his head again. _‘Not helping.’_

Techno’s claustrophobia had kept itself pretty much on the low key his whole life, and didn’t tend to escalate over feeling faintly nauseous every time he took an elevator or always making sure to pick a seat next to the window during car rides. Then again, never before had he gone out of his way to experiment with the limits of his phobia by just locking himself inside old supply closets.

Maybe he was allowed a little freak out when his fate was at the hands of two demonic masterminds that he’d partially raised himself. It didn’t help that he had places to be like…

Like the stream.

Reigning in the surge of alarm that had suddenly shot through him, Techno forced another deep breath into his system. That wouldn’t be for at least another forty-five minutes or so. Right now, he needed to focus on sweettalking himself out of this situation.

Techno decided that the best course of action would be to seemingly play along, maybe let them fall into a sense of false security and catch them off guard.

That all sounds very dark.

This is what actually went down:

“I’ve never heard of this kingdom of yours before, care to explain that?”

This weak jab, of course, has the opposite effect than what Techno had been intended. He could almost see the exact moment the sadistic grins blossomed on his sisters’ faces. He’s sealed his doom, as his words set the young girls into an unnecessarily detailed narrative of the origins and further development of their shared reign. This went on and on until it felt more like a real traveler’s tale and not an eight and a nine year old essentially torturing their older brother.

Fortunately, Techno found himself truthfully enraptured by their passionate storytelling rather than focusing on why he was forced to listen to it. The walkie-talkies were eventually abandoned by both sides and it was now just a muffled one-way conversation through the wooden door.

That is, until one of the narrators suddenly announced:

“I’m hungry!”

And the other right away made sure to voice her agreement. “I want chips.”

“I’ll get them!”

Techno, bless him, did not think much of this interruption, rather letting the other girl man the ship, until he heard the soft patters of the youngest hurrying back.

“I can’t find them!” She whined, upset.

Techno felt a light bulb turn on over his head, window of opportunity right in sight.

“Ah, the chips.” He began, loud enough so that it would definitely catch the girls’ attention. “I just so happen to know exactly where those are.”

There was an audible pause, Techno knew his sisters were evaluating their options.

“You do?” The older of them asked.

Techno let a small smirk slither unto his face. “Yeah, and I could give you this information for the measly price of setting me free.” He laid down the offer with confidence, knowing there was little his sisters wouldn’t give up for greasy goods.

“That’s all?” One of them asked.

“Yeah, that’s all you have to do and the chips will be all yours.”

“Hmmm.” They pondered through the door and it was silent for the moments that they took to consider the bargain. The young man felt his confidence strengthen, mentally preparing himself to sprint away from the room the second his sisters let him go.

It was then that he heard one of them gasp loudly.

“Wait! I know where they are!”

Following the exclamation were the thumping sounds of unmeasured footsteps hurrying away in the direction of their kitchen, and then a bit further along into the laundry room. They stopped for a second, to collect the crumpled bag of chips from on top of the washing machine, Techno knew, and then they hurried back through the house. They stopped in front of the door. The sisters cheered and the bag was shaken with their excitement.

“The chips have arrived!”

Techno’s shoulders slumped and he sighed with disappointment.

There went his ticket to freedom.

“Don’t worry!” One of them called out to him. “We might consider par-per, uhm, perdoning you after we feast!”

With that, the two dashed away to the living room.

Techno waited one, two, three seconds, and let out a shuddering breath.

He was alone.

The air grew thicker around him, all but his loud heartbeat went dead silent.

“Fuck.” He cursed from deep in his throat, frame tense and wound up. He forced himself to calm down again, to listen to reason. It would be okay, they were going to come back after they were done eating, knowing the vacuum qualities of his sisters’ eating manners, it would only take fifteen minutes, max, for the whole bag to be empty.

Fifteen minutes.

He had to hold the fort for only fifteen minutes.

He could do that.

Techno placed both hands flat against the door and gave it an experimental push. He felt the old wood creak under his palms, but it was stubborn and remained in its place. Techno knew not to exhaust himself by being rash and pounding on the door or something, getting agitated would not help him much.

Swallowing thickly, he leaned forward and let his forehead rest against the cool surface, his shoulders hunched with tension, his knees had a bit of a tremble to them, but Techno refused to listen to them. He had to keep himself standing and his eyes pressed shut, or he might lose it.

Focus on breathing, Techno.

That was all.

Fifteen minutes.

………

* * *

Gently tapping away the last bit of dampness from his hair, Wilbur let the small towel rest around his neck. He let out a quick huff as he sat on the edge of his bed and picked up his phone from where he’d left it earlier on his bedside drawer.

The 24-year-old frowned as he opened twitter and found something immediately amiss in his timeline. There was a plethora of solo tweets and threads that all contained the same hashtag. When he saw it, his first instinct was to laugh and maybe join the fray.

Then, he opened Trending.

_1_ _· Entertainment · Trending_ _·_ _United States_

**_#TECHNOLATE_ **

_117.7k Tweets_

He didn’t know why seeing that made a knot of nerves settle in the pit of his stomach. Normally, he would’ve had a different reaction to seeing his friend on trending, but he knew the obvious meaning behind the hashtag, he’s seen it before, because of course Technoblade has been late to his streams before, or have his chat troll him for not being on the dot, but was he ever absent for long enough to get on trending?

Keeping his uneasiness at bay, Wilbur swiftly made his way to the Youtube app on his phone and promptly looked for Techno’s channel.

And sure enough, there it was, a live stream with only fanart in display, no block men, no smartass deep voice dialogue to keep it company.

Under the thumbnail, he spotted a set of numbers.

135, 432 watching now · Started streaming 20 minutes ago

Wilbur sighed, that wasn’t so bad. He chuckled, laughing at himself for getting worked up over so little. With only a second of hesitation he closed both aps and resigned himself to get some work done on his own Youtube content. Except, at the last second, he decided to send Techno, seeing as he was online, a direct discord message, just in case.

_Wilbur_ _·_ _Today at 8:32 PM (GMT)_

_You’re late for your stream Techno. Finally caught on some sleep?_

He waited for exactly one minute to see if the other would respond but, upon receiving nothing, he shook his head and turned to his work, trying to convince himself that it was his paranoia speaking, not him.

When his phone buzzed just moments later, he let go of that feeble intent of being reasonable and dived for it, tapping on Discord immediately.

But the chat with Techno was the same as he’d left it. After a second of confusion, he got another text, and realized it was Phil trying to reach him through PM.

Today 8:41 PM

**Phil**

Have you seen twitter?

I can’t reach Techno.

Wilbur frowned at the time, had spent nine minutes blankly staring at his screen?

**Wilbur**

Yeah, I saw.

He’s got Discord open, but he’s not responding.

Wilbur stared as the three “typing” dots appeared and disappeared, Phil clearly trying to set on something to say but never settling on one statement, until finally:

Today 8:45 PM

**Phil**

Dream and Skeppy said the same.

I called earlier, it rang out.

Wilbur bit his lip and opened the stream on his computer monitor, still lifeless, asides from the raging chat, which was way past the point of frantic.

Wilbur concluded then that, if he was being paranoid, at least he wasn’t alone.

* * *

Something wasn’t right. Techno knew it right away.

He’d taken meticulous care when he begun counting down the seconds in his head as a method of keeping himself distracted.

With his breathing, and the beating of his heart, he kept a check on time, falling into a lull, which had been his downfall.

Techno had jolted himself out of his self-imposed disassociated bubble the moment he realized what was wrong.

Fifteen minutes had gone by already, more than that, and his sisters weren’t back.

With a nervous frown, he forced himself to pay close attention to any noise coming from outside the closet. He froze when his ears picked up on muffled chatter and, maybe, tunes? Music?

Wait.

“Is that the TV?!” Techno yelled in a whisper.

Now that he knew what to look for, it was undeniable that the intermittent chatter and timed laugh tracks were coming from the TV in the sitting area within the living room. The volume was nearly all the way up. Now that Techno was out of his head, he could now hear every line of dialogue at near perfection.

A tight ball of dread coiled in his middle.

Literal minutes ago, everything was too silent.

Now it was too loud.

To spill salt on the wound, there was no way his sisters even remembered Techno was still in the same house as them anymore. As passionate as they were, both of them had the attention span of, well, eight-year-olds.

Which meant he was stuck, truthfully this time.

_Breathe, Techno._

How long had he been in there really? He’d counted each passing second, but now found that he didn’t know how much those added to, he couldn’t do the math in his head. A beat later, he couldn’t even recall the initial number anymore.

Had he been counting at all?

_Stop._

Techno choked and shook his head wildly. He ordered his thoughts to turn somewhere else, find another focus point, anything that would take him out of that damned closet.

And, of course, block men and armor upgrades and battle tactics were the first thing to come to his rescue. It should’ve been slightly more disconcerting how he didn’t second guess the choice at all.

It might’ve been considered exponentially sad in the big picture, but he’d much rather go into a fourth grueling potato war right then and there than give into the panic attack nipping at his chest.

He needed to get lost in his head, so, he let everything else go lax. Before he knew it, his knees had hit the ground and his weight was pulling him back and further down until he was sitting with the locked exit pressed against his back.

Immediately, he was aware of what a huge mistake that was.

As soon as he was on the ground, Techno knew he wouldn’t be able to get himself back up. The walls had grown exponentially taller, but they were drawing in, toppling over his head and going down.

His chest got tight, his lungs seized inside it.

The walls were closing in, and he couldn’t move.

_Why did he sit down.Why did he sit down.Why did he sit down_

Techno’s breathing had gone awry long ago, his arms were plastered down his sides, hands scrabbling without purpose, nails scratching the floor. He had his legs propped against his caving chest, sweating forehead against the knees. He didn’t have control anymore.

That is, until his left hand bumped into something.

His senses laser focused on that one object as it was snatched off the floor, he held it as close to him as he could.

It took him a second or two, swimming through the fog in his mind, to realize that it was the same cheap plastic walkie-talkie that had got him in there in the first place.

Techno just barely stopped himself from chucking it across the room out of spite, his thoughts had cleared up just enough to cling onto a sliver of hope.

His sisters probably took their half of the duo with them to the living room.

Shaking, he brough the device close to his mouth with a sense of Déjà vu, he pressed the push-to-talk button resolutely, nearly pushing it all the way under the casing. He swallowed twice before speaking.

“Holy rulers of the land, mighty queens, nerds, absolutely Machiavellian children, and all of the above.” Did he sound as unfazed as always? Was that a good enough front? Maybe, he isn’t sure. “That’s a pretty big bag of chips, but I’m sure both of you are done with it by now.”

He waited, breath baited, for an answer.

“…uh, girls?”

Nothing.

Not a trace of a spicy comeback or mocking laughter.

Nothing but the TV, which was turned up even louder than what Techno had previously thought. It was clear they couldn’t hear him, it was obvious they’d forgotten about him, absorbed into the moving images over the big screen.

This time, Techno did chuck the insulting plastic device away, ripped it out of his hand like it burned him. It bounced off the wall, breaking upon crackled impact and the pieces nearly reached him, the little electronic parts scampering out like Christmas popper filling. When one touched his foot, he kicked at it blindly, and then shrunk back into a tight ball.

This couldn’t be happening.

There was a buzzing in his ears, the nasty feeling around his ribcage came back with vigor, in a way that Techno just couldn’t brace himself for the onslaught. The air around him was barely breathable anymore, getting stuffier and heavier by the second.

Before he knew it, his vision was graying around the edges, his hands had gone cold.

Everything became nonexistent so suddenly that Techno, with a jolt that didn’t move him at all, couldn’t help but think.

Was this it?

Was he really going to suffocate to death in his own family’s supply closet because Hide & Seek is an ancient sage murder strategy that should have never been at the disposal of his wicked sisters?

And, because his trail of thought was losing coherence with each short, painful breath, Techno realized something else.

It was a shame that he won’t get the chance to race Dream to twenty million, it would’ve been an easy win.

Oh, that, and that he never got to meet Tommy, Wilbur or Philza in real life.

The mocking reminder that there were other people out there who knew who he was made him slip deeper into despair and shame, because dying like this (would he even die? He’d heard of people passing out during panic attacks and waking up shortly after, most of the time. Not that it mattered in his case, if lack of oxygen didn’t do it, starvation would certainly take the wheel at some point. Or dysentery. Yeah, maybe dysentery) was just downright pathetic.

Just when he knew that darkness had it’s claw right above him, a foreign yet familiar noise had Techno resurfacing at breakneck speed, like jumping away from a nightmare but still feeling pinned down, paralytic. His bones too heavy for him to jump into action, Techno resigned himself to listen, just like he’d done many times before inside the cramped storage room.

Only then, to both his dismay and total relief, he realized that a percentage of the buzzing in his ears wasn’t his body going into shock, but rather it originated from the vibrations of his phone, fighting against the front pocket of his jeans.

Techno blinked blearily down at it, exhausted from struggling to get his hyperventilation under control.

His phone.

His perfectly functional cellphone which he’d had on him this _entire time._

With a sense of mild mirth, Techno wondered if it could get any worse than this.

Somehow, he managed recollect the necessary strength to fish his phone out of the denim pocket. It was muscle memory that unlocked it, and he flinched when sudden brightness attacked the dark and all inside the room was rid of its center shadow. For some reason, this made it feel easier to breathe.

When Techno’s eyes finally adjusted to the screen, he made out a name displayed on it, and felt his stomach plummet.

Tommy was calling him.

It could get this much worse, apparently.

As much as he felt like he was in no condition to deal with the teen, talking to someone meant that he was still alive.

Suddenly, that was all he yearned for.

He dragged his thumb across the screen, accepting the call and subconsciously putting on speaker like he often did when someone called whilst he was playing on his PC.

The younger’s response was immediate.

 _“HEY TECHNO! There you are man!!”_ Tommy’s boisterous greeting made him jump back, startled. _“What did you do, big man?! Twitter’s going nuts!”_

Techno blinked, confused

What was he talking about?

“Uhm…W-What?” He managed to croak out, voice choked up and far too small for his liking. Tommy either didn’t notice or ignored it.

 _“You’re on trending!”_ The teen exclaimed in excitement, oblivious to the fact that Techno might have to add going deaf to his growing pile of problems.

After a second, Tommy made a sound of confusion, reacting to something Techno couldn’t see.

_“What the hell does ‘Technolate’ mean anyways? Were you streaming, big man?”_

With that, and the feeling of his insides become lead, Techno might as well add heart attack to the pile as well.

The stream.

The goddamn stream.

He missed his stream and he was still in that godforsaken one by one death trap-

_“…. Techno?”_

The older male jumped a bit, startled out of his head once again, maybe for the best. Swallowing thickly against the dry walls of his throat and mouth, Techno figured he might as well talk back.

“T-Tommy, I don’t-,” Damn his voice for cracking, damn himself for shaking so hard that he had to let the hand with his phone rest on his lap instead of holding it in front of him.

He tried to clear his throat, which evolved into a short coughing fit, there was a tight knot down there that was too resilient to let him be.

“Listen, I’m in a bit of a, let’s say, predicament.” He finally managed to say, racking his brain for more of his stock-like unbothered responses, like a defense mechanism. “And, it just so happened, that I missed my stream.”

Tommy was quiet for a bit. _“What do you mean predicament? Are you stuck in traffic or some shit?”_

Techno shook his head, answering with his words when he belatedly realized the other couldn’t exactly see him.

“No. No, I’m at home, I just-.” He cut himself off, biting his lip subconsciously. Did he really want to dump his less than brilliant issue on the 16-year-old? The whole gist of it was just so plain dumb too.

 _“Techno?”_ Tommy asked after a few too long seconds of silence.

Techno swallowed and took a deep breath for the first time in, well, a while he guessed, he wasn’t sure.

This was going to be so embarrassing.

“My sisters locked me inside a supply closet.”

Techno squeezed his eyes shut as he said it, bracing himself for booming laughter and the teasing and the shame that was sure to escalate following that.

And, of course, he was right. Tommy’s laugh was loud and obnoxious as it echoed in the room. In his head, Techno could practically see the blonde falling of his chair in his mirth, essentially dying of laughter on the floor of his bedroom all the way in the UK.

The corners of Techno’s mouth quirked up just a little, unable to deny how hilariously ridiculous his predicament was, but the lips thinned just as quickly. The walls were suddenly caving in again, his grip on the phone went knuckle white.

“I-, uh, I actually don’t do great with small spaces, ha… I-I’m still in here, by the way.” He immediately hated everything coming out of his mouth right then, it all sounded self-deprecating and pitiful to him. He also despised that he couldn’t help it, as the distraction from Tommy’s arrival was steadily ebbing away.

 _“…Oh.”_ Was Tommy’s response.

Despite himself, Techno snorted. “Yeah, ‘oh’.”

When the other didn’t come back with a quip, Techno’s anxiety grew back, he felt alone again. Maybe the younger wanted to leave now, not willing to deal with any of the dramatics. Techno wouldn’t blame him, while he wasn’t sure he’d exactly book it if Tommy was in his place, he knew the pressure would be too much to deal with when you couldn’t do anything about it, an ocean away from your friend.

Imagine Techno’s surprise then, when Tommy spoke again.

_“What do I-? How do I help?”_

This caught the American off hand. “What?”

 _“How can I help you, Techno?”_ Tommy said, the tone of his voice dead serious.

Techno blinked several times before shrugging his tense shoulders. “I mean, you can’t exactly pop up here and break down the door for me, can you? If you can, you should’ve told me earlier, imagine how many times we’d break into Phil’s house in the middle of the night and scared the crap out of him.”

What the fuck was he talking about anymore?

 _“Hmm,”_ began Tommy. _“Sorry, mate, I can’t do that. Hey, how epic would it be if you just took apart the hinges and brought the door down, hm? Like, you kick it out of the frame like a crazed man.”_

This brought a chuckle out of the older. “That would be memorable, for sure. But it doesn’t open that way.”

_“What do you mean?”_

“I can’t see the hinges from the inside, Tommy.”

A pause. _“What? Really? What kind of stupid door is that?”_

Techno felt a hint of annoyance rise up from nowhere, the door at his back was cold, and the space in front of him was heavy and warm. “A supply closet door Tommy. What did you even-! I’m trapped in here for a reason I-,” His voice got stuck in his throat and stopped altogether.

He shouldn’t have said that out loud.

“F-Fuck.” He grit out, resolve breaking. He let the hand holding his phone slide to the ground and felt himself curl forward, his forehead pressed against his knees, the shaking overtaking his body and being worse than before.

“Fuck.” He repeated unknowingly, and his constricting lungs let him say no more.

* * *

From his side, Tommy could hear Techno’s hitching and uneven breathing and it sounded so unnatural that it was quite honestly freaking him out. He spluttered in his chair, trying to say a million things at once but nothing came out. He needed to help his friend but had no idea how, and it wasn’t helping that he was starting to panic a little as well. Tommy could call someone, get them to help Techno or at least guide Tommy into helping, anything would be really useful-

At that moment, both Wilbur and Phil texted him.

Today 9:05 PM

**PhilZa**

Tommy, have you talked to Techno? I can’t get my calls through.

Today 9:05 PM

**WilBurr**

Child, Techno’s disappeared and you’ve ignored my last seven texts.

What have you done?

Tommy winced, he had ignored Wilbur’s text the last half hour or so, but that was because he was being an ass on purpose, he didn’t know there was something wrong then. But now, he was certain of what he had to do.

“Uhm, Techno, just hold on a bit.” He said, unsure if the other heard him or not.

Determined, Tommy quickly turned to his PC which was on. He’d thought about maybe streaming in an hour but those plans were far out the window by now. In record time, he got on Discord and added Phil and Wilbur to a call, then he snatched up his phone and put the call he had with Techno on speaker.

The other two were already yelling at him.

_“Tommy? Tommy! What is this? Do you know where Techno is? I’ve absolutely flooded his phone but he isn’t-,”_

_“Wilbur, calm. Tommy, please give us something man.”_

Tommy worried his bottom lip. “Both of you just, shut up, for a second okay?”

He held his phone close to the microphone. “Technoblade?”

There was no change, the other’s breaths where still horribly worked up and wet, it even seemed to Tommy that they were getting shorter.

He turned to the other two for help. “Guys I don’t know what to do! He’s been like that for the past minute!”

Tommy heard a sharp inhale of breath followed by a swear from Wilbur.

Phil took charge almost right away.

* * *

_“ -echno? Techno, listen to me.”_

A voice made it clear past the storm of loud nothing that had taken over Techno’s ears, a recognizable tone that cut through all else. Who was that?

_“Techno I need you take a deep breath for me, yeah?”_

Techno shook his head, choking. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t breathe.

“ _Yes you can, c’mon. I know you can.”_

Unsure, he tried, and nearly sobbed when he found everything blocked off. He couldn’t do it.

He was going to die.

 _“Techno?”_ A different voice, deeper. _“You’re okay Techno. Nothing’s going to hurt you, you’re okay. Breathe.”_

_“You can do it, Techno.”_

It turned out that he could. Using much of what strength he felt he had, Techno dragged in a full breath, it clawed at his throat and burned his lungs, but then the fog in his head seemed a bit less dense, so he did it again and again, breathe in, breathe out, until his lungs felt full and there was only a subtle ache in his chest as opposed to the massive weight that was crushing it down. He could think again, and hear over the rushing blood.

But the tension in his bones did not leave, and his eyes remained scrunched shut. He left his head resting on his knees, focusing only on breathing.

He couldn’t let himself relax for two reasons.

One, he was still in there. So, his eyes will stay shut.

Two, he had just, as his now more cohesive memory will recollect, had a breakdown in front of his friends. So, he will not speak.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

_“Techno?”_

Breathe in

Breathe out.

_“You okay now, buddy?”_

Breathe in.

….

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m good. Thanks.”

Breathe out.

_“Oh thank god.”_

_“Jesus Christ Techno, what the hell happened?”_

Techno went back to focusing on keeping his breaths even.

Tommy answered Wilbur.

_“You’re working on a new song, right Wilbur? Techno asked about it the other day.”_

_“…Really?”_

_“Yeah, yeah tell us about it!”_

Techno felt himself smile. That kid was so damn smart.

..............................

Techno found himself listening to a serious conversation about Youtooz sales when he felt the door shift behind him.

He was on his feet the next second.

The voices from his phone had gone silent as well, they all waited with baited breaths.

Within the next moment, light from the hallway invaded the closet, the door was opened.

Techno almost ran over one of his sisters in his haste.

She stumbled back, reacting quickly and frowned up at him when they were both standing outside the room. After a second she gave him an odd look.

“Why are you so pale? Did you vomit?” She tried to look behind him to see if her theory was true. Techno felt immediate need to get them both far away from the closet.

With a hand on her shoulder pulling her back, and another right away pushing the heavy old wooden door shut, absentmindedly sliding the latches into place, Techno turned to his younger sister and gave her the best smile he could manage, completely breaking away from his usual demeanor in order to just say anything without breaking down in front of more people younger than him for at least another century.

“Nah, I’m good.” He ushered her down the hallway. “You guys are mean.”

She giggled, nodding without remorse.

Techno smiled for real this time. “I have to go back to my room now. Go back to your cartoons.”

The young girl pouted. “It’s not a cartoon!”

Raising his hands in mock surrender, and remembering he still had his phone in one of them, Techno smirked. “I never said there was anything wrong with that. Cartoons can be pretty awesome, you know?”

“Really? You think that?”

“Yeah!” He ruffled her head with his free hand. “I gotta go now.”

“Okay.”

Techno made a beeline to his bedroom but stopped short of walking in and turned around to catch his sister’s eyes. “Hey, listen.”

She looked at him with big eyes, listening intently. “Yeah?”

Techno’s eyes flickered to the floor for half a second before returning to his sister’s face. “Don’t do that to your sister okay? And don’t let her do it to you either alright? Once was fun, but it’s, uhm, it’s really dirty in there and I don’t want you guys to get sick or something.”

There was a moment of silence, before the nine-year-old gasped loudly.

“You DID vomit!”

…

“I did _not_!”

* * *

Techno slumped back on his chair and stared at the black screen of his monitor. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. It was just minutes ago that he’d gotten off the call with the others, after thanking them offhandedly and said he was too tired to talk, really talk, about what happened at the moment. They let him go on the promise that he’d call them when he was ready.

So, Techno promised.

Straight away he had turned to his PC and wasted little time to end the hour-and-something long ‘waiting for stream to start’ event, he dived into Twitter right after. He skipped over the timeline, ignored the trending page, and tweeted:

**Technoblade**

@technothepig

Stream rescheduled to next week, sorry about that.

Techno was going to leave it like that, dry with no apparent explanation, but had an enlightenment. Hey, if he could, by keeping the nasty bits out, turn this traumatic episode into money-making content, then why not go ahead and have at it.

**Technoblade**

@technothepig

In compensation, watch out for the next video upload somewhere between here and next year. As I’m feeling generous, I’ll allow a little title tease.

ahem…

“The REVIVAL of Skywars storytime: Of how Technoblade was held hostage by two eight-year-olds and the deep-fried remains of his people.”

Immediate banger. Not that he bothered to see the chaos following it. Techno, with exhaustion sinking into his bones and the ghost of an ache in his chest, put his phone on mute and threw himself on his old bedroom bed.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

And fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it til the end! I hope it wasn't too bad.
> 
> Just to make it clear, to my knowledge, Techno has never mentioned having Claustrophobia or anything of the like, I just gave it to him for the fic!
> 
> I know the SBI interaction is a bit short, you have to be patient, I have many other angsty things in plan!  
> In any case, thank you so much for reading. Please do feel free to comment, reading your thoughts on my work gives me life! I try to give a response to all of them too!


End file.
